Off the Leash
by poke-a-spark
Summary: [Sequel to House of Dogs] It's the morning after and the gang is remembering just why it isn't a good idea to get ideas whilst completely hammered. [FemShep/Miranda Garrus/Tali James/Ash Wrex/Bakara Javik/Liara]


**Off The Leash**

**Summary:**** [Sequel to House of Dogs] It's the morning after and the gang is remembering just why it isn't a good idea to get ideas whilst completely hammered. [Same pairings]**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Mass Effect or anything associated with it. I am not making a profit off of this story. I am just a poor college kid addicted to the game.**

_**A/N: Those of you who read House of Dogs were in favor of a sequel, so here it is; another silly little story to pass the time. This story decided it liked the idea of being multi-chaptered; therefore I'm going to start with the morning after, back track so you can see how their night on the town after getting completely smashed went, and then the aftermath. If you have any suggestions, I'd be more than happy to try to incorporate them somehow.**_

**Chapter 1 – The Morning After**

**O0o0o0o0o0o0O**

**Garrus**

"Hey, Garrus?"

Garrus' mandibles twitched in annoyance as a voice cut through his dream, insistently pulling him from the comforting darkness of unconsciousness.

"Uh, Garrus? Why the hell are you snoring in the elevator?"

"Don't snore," Garrus mumbled. "Why do you want an elevator?"

"Uh, yeah, you do. Loudly; like, I could totally hear you thundering from the cockpit." Joker sagged into the wall and stared at the turian slouched in the opposite corner. "And I don't want an elevator; we're in one."

"What are you talking about?" Garrus slowly opened his eyes and looked blearily around. Confusion set in as he realized where he was. Turning his head slowly to the side to regard Joker, he questioned, "Why are we in an elevator?"

"Well, I have no idea why you were passed out in an elevator," Joker retorted, shifting slightly from side to side. "But I need to whiz like a racehorse."

"What's a racehorse?" Garrus asked. His memory was a little foggy and Joker's odd remarks were just confusing him even more.

"So totally not the point." Sighing in relief as the doors finally closed and the elevator started moving, Joker looked back at the sorry looking turian.

"What's the point?" He wished Joker would just speak plain turian for once; his translator was having a hell of a time. If he didn't know any better, he'd suspect him of talking gibberish just to see what the translator would make of it.

"The point is I need to piss," Joker pointed to himself. "And you were snoring in the elevator. Which brings us back to my earlier question; why the hell were you snoring in the elevator?"

"I…" Garrus squinted thoughtfully. "I don't know."

"You… don't know." Joker asked incredulously. "You don't know why you were passed out in the elevator. Seriously."

"I don't remember." Garrus was really confused.

"Well, what do you remember?"

"I, well, a few of us went out for drinks," Garrus said, wracking his brain.

"What? You guys went out for drinks and didn't invite me? Thanks; I feel the love. I'll remember that next time you guys need me to put my mad skills to use in a reaper chase and pull all of our asses out of the fire." Joker ranted indignantly.

"And then…blank." Garrus continued, so focused inwards that he hadn't even realized Joker was talking. For the life of him, he couldn't remember anything past the sixth shot. Or was it the ninth? He couldn't have had more than twelve, could he?

"Blank?" Joker prompted, intrigued despite himself. He'd do anything to keep his mind off of the fact that he really needed to go and the elevator was going slower than a space snail, even if it meant temporarily putting aside the fact that he hadn't been invited to drink.

"Yeah blank… no, wait," Garrus scratched his head, puzzled. "I remember purple for some reason."

"Well, that's not so random." Joker pointed out. "I mean, have you seen yourself? I was trying to be polite by not mentioning it, but dude; what's up with the make-over?"

"What are you talking about?" Garrus sighed irritably. It was like he was only receiving half of the conversation.

The elevator finally stopped and the doors whooshed slowly open. Wobbling as fast as he could towards the men's washroom, he threw over his shoulder, "Look in a mirror."

Struggling to his feet, Garrus steadied himself against the wall before slowly following Joker into the washroom. Hearing a trickle of water and a sigh of pleasure, he turned towards the mirror and stared in shock. His once blue armor was now colored a shiny bright purple. The war paint on his face was a slightly darker shade of purple, yet purple all the same. And his butt… Turning slightly, he viewed his posterior in the mirror. Clinging to the purple armor was a crusty brown substance. Hesitantly, he brought a bit of it up to his nose and took a whiff.

"Whoa," Joker turned around and froze again. "It looks like you really needed to go too; except your bowels moved faster than you did."

"No, it's chocolate," Garrus sniffed it again to confirm. As the sweet scent filled his nostrils, a memory flashed through his mind. Eyes wide, he stared at himself in the mirror.

"Uh, buddy? You in there?" Joker glanced at the immobile turian, his confusion turning to alarm when the taller male groaned loudly.

"Joker," Garrus began, pathetically. Maybe he could hide in the men's washroom for a while. At least until it all blew over. Or the reapers killed them. Whichever came first. "Hypothetically speaking, if a guy was 'in the dog house', got drunk and did something stupid to try and apologize, how bad would it be for the guy? Hypothetically?"

"Uh, well, hypothetically speaking," Joker raised his eyebrow at this. "What does that brown stuff on your ass look like?"

"Crap."

"Got that right."

"What do I do?" Garrus started twiddling his hands nervously.

"Try and take back whatever you did."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Grovel. Grovel like your life depends on it," Joker added, sadistically. Maybe he wasn't completely over being left out of the fun. "Oh, wait; it does." Huh. He didn't know turians could turn that shade of grey.

**O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

**Javik, James, &Wrex**

A loud bang startled James awake. Springing into a sitting position, he cursed and clutched his head as he banged it on the underside of his workbench. Rubbing the quickly developing goose egg, he wiggled his muscular body out of the small opening before using the table to haul himself to his feet. Picking up the heavy metal mod that had fallen, he placed it back on the table top. Why the hell was he underneath his workbench?

Scratching his head in confusion, he looked around the cargo bay. Spotting a large red lump lying in the middle of the floor, he yelled out. "Wrex?" He received no answer. Walking over to the large krogan, he poked him with his foot.

Still no response.

Prodding him a little harder, James frowned. He wondered if he was even alive. From what he could see, he wasn't moving at all. Shrugging, he swung his foot back and got ready to give the krogan a swift kick when a voice startled him, making him miss and fall on his ass.

"Kick me one more time and I'll feed your balls to a varren." Wrex rumbled, irritated. It had been a while since he had drunk that much ryncol. If what he remembered was true, he'd rather not get up and face the world. He couldn't wait to go back to Tuchanka; now he was dreading his return. He hated lectures, especially from females. Males battled it out; females preferred talking you into submission. It was torture of the worst kind.

Picking himself off of the floor, James rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Heh heh heh…" Dusting off his pants, he finally noticed his omnitool was blinking. Bringing up his messages, his brow furrowed at the amount of mail he had from Ashley. Bringing up the latest one, he scratched his head in confusion.

_**From: Ashley Williams**_

_**To: James Vega**_

_**Re: Hide and Seek**_

_**Vega;**_

_**I swear, if you keep sending me pictures of yourself and telling me I suck at playing hide and seek at 0400hours while I am TRYING to catch some shut eye, I assure you, my foot will have no trouble at all finding your ass.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Piss Off**_

What the hell was she talking about? Scrolling through his messages, he saw he had eighteen more from her, as well as a receipt for the payment of a tattoo. "What the…" Checking underneath his clothes with a feeling of dread, he cursed when a brand new tattoo was revealed on his hip. He cursed even louder when he saw what it said.

"Damn, how much did we drink last night? I haven't woken up with a tattoo since my academy days." James exclaimed, brows scrunched in an effort to remember all that had happened the night before.

"Not enough to be able to deal with today, that's for damn sure," Wrex grumbled, still face first on the ground.

Leaning back against a crate, James yelled as the cover slipped off and he fell in. "Whoa!" Blinking, he looked down and found himself face to face with four angry eyes.

"You." Javik growled, eyes flashing. James yelped and jerked backwards, breaking the side of the crate. The human spilled to the floor along with hundreds of multi-colored bendy-straws. Stiffly hauling himself out of the crate, Javik's four eyes locked on to his target.

With a wave of his hand, James was enveloped in green biotics and made to hang upside-down in the air.

"Hey! Whoa!" James yelled, panicking as his world turned green and inverted.

"You are the reason I have these memories!" Javik seethed, shaking the human in emphasis.

"What are you talking about!" James yelped, the green tint to his face having nothing to do with the biotics.

"Horrid, horrid memories! Colorful plastic tubes and sticky substances, not to mention the farm animals and the embarrassment in front of the Liara asari!" Javik continued, horror inflecting his voice. "You have infected me with your primitiveness!" Glancing around frantically, he dropped the human to the floor and barked. "Quick, human. Point me in the direction of your basin and I will spare your life. I must wash myself of this disease."

Groaning, James rolled onto his back. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Water human," Javik snapped. "I require water!"

"This is the cargo bay," James answered, irritably, as he rubbed his elbow. "I don't have a 'basin'."

"You are even more primitive then I first believed," Javik stated, his horror growing with every word that came out of the primitive's mouth.

It was this scene that Garrus walked into, freshly changed into his spare armor. Unfortunately, the war paint was proving quite stubborn; though he had scrubbed, it had only faded to a dark pink, leaving him looking ridiculously feminine. He looked around at the sorry state of his teammates, feeling better now that he knew he wasn't the only one who made a fool of himself the night before.

Garrus opened his mouth. "Guys," He looked around, nervously. "Where's Shepard?"

Heavy silence permeated the room.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0O **

**Shepard**

Shepard groaned; it felt like a reaper was trying to drill its way through her skull. Not ready to leave the inviting blanket of darkness, she rolled away from the light that permeated her eyelids. Not realizing how close she was to the edge of her bed, she ended up hitting the floor with a surprised croak. Scrunching up into a ball against the pain, she fought back the waves of nausea her sudden movements caused. Panting slightly as the urge to vomit whatever the hell she had ingested in the last twenty-four hours lessened, she uncurled enough to rest her cheek against the cool floor.

"Bob? Are you alive, Bob?"

"Wha-" Shepard croaked; her throat felt like sandpaper. Turning her head slowly towards the voice, she cracked her eyes open without thinking, only to slam them shut immediately. Bringing a hand up, she ground her wrist into her forehead in reflex, futilely hoping the external pressure would lessen the internal one.

"Wasn't sure if you were alive or not, the way you dropped earlier. The human female said you'd survive, though you'd wish you hadn't; wonder what she meant by that. Was beginning to think she was wrong."

Shepard, using her hand to shade her eyes, cracked them open slightly. Trying to blink away the brightness, she attempted to focus on the figure sitting on the opposite side of the room. At the moment, all she could make out was a blurry black form against a sea of white. "Who…" she cleared her throat. "Who are you?"

"Thought this might happen; you seemed to be significantly inebriated. Surprising for a human, actually, to have that much tolerance for alcohol. My calculations suggested you should have been unconscious long before you actually succumbed. Spent all night recalculating; thought it might have been an error on my part. Was right the first time; you seem to be the exception, not the rule. I am called Froden; pleased to meet you again, Bob."

"Why are you in my apartment?" Shepard squinted, blinking rapidly as she tried to bring the figure into focus. Slowly, the dark blob began to turn into an equally dark, salarian shaped blob. At least it was an improvement. "And why do you keep calling me Bob?"

"Oh dear; blow to head must have been more severe than I thought. Not good. This is not good." Froden leaned closer, peering at the prone human. He tried to say his words slowly and in a loud voice in deference to her confused state, though he was only marginally successful. "This is not your apartment, human. We are currently in C-Sec; Holding Cell D, to be precise. You are a human female. Your name is Bob."

Grunting, Shepard managed to pull herself up into a sitting position against the wall. Eyeing her salarian companion dubiously, she slowly turned her head and looked around the room with only mild ocular discomfort. The shiny white walls and too-bright light did lead her to believe he was telling the truth about their location. The turian sitting at his desk on the other side of the cell barrier didn't hurt his statement either. "Okay, so we're in a cell. I still have no idea why I'm here and why you keep calling me Bob." Her head was killing her.

"Bob is your name human," Froden answered, pleased they were making progress. Perhaps the blow wasn't as severe as he thought. He may have to recalculate.

"No…" Shepard drawled out slowly, seriously doubting his sanity. "It's not. My name is Pheonix Shepard."

"No, your name is Bob." Delusions of grandeur; perhaps the recalculations weren't needed after all.

"No it's not."

"Yes, yes it is."

"No it's not!"

"Human, I regret to inform you your name is Bob." Froden said with finality. "This is something you will have to learn to live with; denying yourself is not good for the psyche."

"It is not-" Shepard stopped mid-sentence, exhaling loudly through her nose. She rubbed her head wearily; all of this arguing was only serving to make her headache worse. She decided to try a new tactic. "Okay; let's say I believe you. Why are you so sure I'm not Commander Shepard, but am instead this 'Bob'?"

"Well," Froden grinned, pleased once more. Human skulls were thicker than he thought, but he had persevered and was finally getting through to the confused female. "For one, you told me yourself that your name was Bob."

"I did no such thing!" Shepard interjected immediately, despite the fact that she couldn't remember anything past having a few drinks with the guys.

Froden chose to ignore her. "Secondly, you look nothing like Shepard."

"Hey!" Shepard cut him off, offended. "What do you mean 'I look nothing like Shepard'?"

"Human," Froden patiently explained. "Your hair is the wrong length and color, your skin is the wrong shade, and you do not share the same eye colors."

"What?" Shepard was beyond confused. How could she not look like herself? What kind of whack job was this?

"Perhaps a visual demonstration." Froden hopped off of his cot and walked up to hers. Lifting the thin foam mattress, he pointed to the shiny metal frame. "See? Passing resemblance, perhaps, but appearance deviated enough for conclusion to be concrete. You are not Commander Shepard."

Shepard stared at her reflection in shock, only vaguely registering that her companion was still talking. Instead of the flaming red, medium length hair she was used to, her head was now sporting a shocking mess of bright white locks. _Short,_ bright white locks. Mutely, she looked a little lower, noting absently that she was now sporting what looked like a spray-on tan. Stopping at her eyes, she blinked hard. There should have been bright jade orbs staring back at her; instead she had one green eye and one dark violet. Opening and closing her mouth in speechless shock, she turned to Froden as he dropped her mattress and sat on his cot once more.

"What the hell happened last night?" She blurted out in alarm. Her memories were hazy at best, but she certainly did not remember anything like that happening.

"I do not know, human. " Froden shrugged. "I know why I am here. Ideally, you would know why you were here, though it seems being sober has not helped with your understanding. You did not know why this morning either; though you mumbled something about a contract, noodles, and oddly enough, the color purple. I heard the C-Sec Officer that brought you in mention to the other human female what your charges were." He peered at her curiously. "They were quite extensive."

His words evoked something inside her. They sounded very familiar. Searching through her mind, she reached for the memory only for it to doggedly slip out of reach, eluding her once again. Rubbing her temples, she prompted him for more information. The memory was _so_ close. "Who did he say what to?"

"Ah, I believe you called her Murray." At her blank look he began describing her. "Long dark hair. Predominately white outfit. Strange accent. No, not strange; unique."

"Miri," Shepard whispered, paling considerably.

"Yes, yes. We've went over her name already. Where was I? Oh yes. As I was saying," Froden began ticking off her charges. "There was petty thievery, obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting, assaulting an officer of the law, destruction of public property-"

"Oh god," Shepard cringed as each word left his mouth. As if a floodgate had been opened, the events of the night before and early that morning flashed through her mind. Unhealthily pale, she buried her face in her hands and groaned. "Oh god." She said again. "Kill me now."

"Mental instability? Doubtful. Suicidal?" Froden observed her, alarmed. "No, no. Maybe…. No."

"Shoot me. Just shoot me." Shepard muttered under her breath as each memory revealed to her got worse and worse.

"Aha!" Froden exclaimed. "You wish to not be alive, yes? Murray was correct once more. This is a fascinating glimpse into human behavior, Bob. I thank you greatly."

Shepard's only response was to whimper pathetically.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0O**

_**A/N: So, first chapter done. Now I just have to figure out what shenanigans they got up to the night before, though already have some ideas. Like I said; ideas are welcome. I'll try to post the next chapter by Monday.**_


End file.
